Metropolitan Diary

By Ron Alexander

Published: February 8, 1995

DEAR DIARY:

Banks aren't what they used to be. The other day I went to get updated interest on my account at the Lincoln Savings Bank. Approaching the midtown branch, I saw the marquee with "Lincoln" on it. Stretched across the front of the building was a banner with "Anchor" printed on it. Lincoln was becoming Anchor.

I handed the teller my bankbook. "Please update this," I said.

"Didn't you get your Anchor number?"

"All I got were notices that there would be no changes in service whatsoever."

"Well, you have a new Anchor number."

"I was told there'd be no changes in services whatsoever."

The teller shrugged and went to another file and got my new Anchor number. She wrote it on my old Lincoln passbook.

"That'll be good until the end of the month," she said.

"Why only until the end of the month?"

"That's when you'll get your Dime number," she said. "This is now the Dime Savings Bank."

"Dime Savings Bank? Outside there's a banner that says 'Anchor Savings Bank,' and above that there's a banner saying 'Lincoln Savings Bank.' Who are you people?"

"Look at the balloons," she said. "Look at the balloons! They say 'Dime Savings' on them." I turned: sure enough, at least a dozen balloons were attached to nearby desks. All had "Dime Savings" printed on them.

"You mean I'm supposed to figure out what bank I'm in by reading balloons?"

Another teller appeared to take offense. "You'll get a notification at the end of the month," she said. "Because we won't be here." "Where will you be?"I asked.

The goggles you wear in order to view the 3D movies at Sony's Imax Theater are high-tech, complicated and sensitive.

The attendant distributing these goggles said something unintelligible to me as he handed me my set. All I heard was him telling me not to do something or other.

"Don't what?" I asked.

"Touch the lenses," he replied loudly and firmly, as he handed a set of goggles to the man behind me.

"Right now?" the fellow asked, touching his lenses. JACK LEBOW . . . LOVE'S LEASE When she isn't looking I look at her and see that she owns my Love and I lease from her. And when she isn't watching I watch her and know that she bought my Soul and I rent from her. I am the lucky tenant who lives in Joy with a "No Vacancy" sign above the Apartment of my Heart. ROGER GRANET . . .

It's the walking-the-children-to-school hour on the Upper West Side.

James S. Harrison overhears father (business suit, attache case, well-thought-out hair) say to 6-ish-looking son (loden coat, backpack, well-thought-out hair) at his side: "What are you worried about? You've made presentations before." . . . Dear Diary: Scene: A newly opened drugstore on the Upper East Side. I am on line at the checkout counter and hear the following.